The Haircut
by CelesteeLexie
Summary: Alternate universe where Jenny and Shane meet at a college party one warm summer night in Arizona. After meeting, Jenny finds herself back at Shane's place letting herself get a haircut from the young stylist. Lots of tension in this one that could manifest itself in following chapters. This will be a short set of chapters. **I do not own the rights to The L Word or characters**


My eyes flitted nervously throughout the room, straining to see through the thick smoke and the backlights strobing and pulsing with the dancing crowd. I had lost my friends, or they had lost me. At any rate, I was alone at a party where I didn't know anyone's names and they didn't know mine.

The music blared loudly into my ears as I walked past the huge speakers next to a table where some scrawny sophomore was attempting to DJ. He looked up as I walked by and nodded at me. I quickly scurried away. I was in the middle of the throng of dancers, their sweaty bodies sticking together under a huge cloud of marijuana and cigarette smoke. They didn't seem to care about the heat or the smoke. Their eyes were lifeless, as if they were worlds away and having the time of their lives.

I pushed through the crowd and finally reached an empty corner. I leaned against the wall and exhaled a huge sigh of relief. I decided I would wait in that very spot for my friends to find me. I felt out of place and a little ridiculous. Everyone else seemed to be having such a good time, and there I was, leaning against a wall, completely sober and worrying about next week's assignments. All I could think about was getting home and going to bed. My chest began to tighten and I felt the familiar cold grip of anxiety settle around my heart. It was too loud. It was too dark. There were too many people.

I wished I could just enjoy myself, like all those other people who were drinking and dancing. But it just wasn't my type of fun. I peered through the dancers, still looking for my friends. Who knew where they were, at this point. They could be hooking up, smoking, or maybe even at a different party by now. Some friends.

My eyes stopped when they landed on someone else's staring right into mine. My face grew hot and I looked to either side of me. There was no one else beside me. I looked back at the stranger, far across the dance floor and leaning against the exact opposite wall from me. She was still staring. Her hair was cropped at the shoulders and messy, hanging in her face in strands. She was wearing a black v-neck and a denim vest. Her black skinny jeans were cuffed at the ankles and her shoes looked like ones I had seen some of the boys skateboard in around campus.

I looked away, not wanting to be rude. But my eyes found their way back to hers. She was still looking. This time she was smiling, a little half smile that appeared playfully on the right corner of her mouth. I blushed and looked away. What did she want?

I suddenly became very aware of the presence of a Dudebro standing beside me. A Dudebro is what my friends and I called the jerks that strutted around campus wearing backwards caps and going shirtless. Specifically the ones who wore camouflage and drank Rockstar energy drinks daily. This was a class A Dudebro, grinning in his metal punk t-shirt and cargo pants. Beer in hand, he offered me a drink.

"Hey, want a drink?" asked the Dudebro.

"No, thank you," I said, struggling to be heard over the music.

"Are you here alone?"

Rule number one of Dudebro 101, never let a Dudebro know you are alone at a party, and never take a drink from him. "No," I replied, "My friends are just in the bathroom."

"You live on campus?" he asked, getting uncomfortably close. I could smell the beer on his breath.

"Yeah, in Eagle." I said.

He nodded his head and attempted to put an arm over my shoulder. I slipped out from under him, spilling some of his beer on my tank top in the process. A frustrated "fuck" slipped out of my mouth.

"Oh shit," he said, laughing, "sorry man!"

I glared at him and turned away, and in doing so ran right into the stranger with a staring problem from across the room. My forehead smacked right into her chin and we both stumbled away, cursing.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," I apologized, gripping my head in pain.

"It's alright," she said, her voice deep and raspy, "It's my fault for sneaking up on you."

"Do you want some ice or something?" I asked, "I hope I didn't get your teeth."

She laughed, her mouth pulling into a half-smile, "My teeth are fine." She put out her hand. "I'm Shane."

I shook her hand. Her hand was warm and slightly calloused. "Hi, I'm Jenny," I replied.

"I haven't seen you around here before," Shane said, "Are you new here?"

"Yeah, I just started this year."

"Freshman, huh?" Shane said, smiling, "You'd better be careful. Those guys in Falcon love pretty freshmen."

"Oh I think I just met one of those Falcon boys right over there. He actually spilled beer on me, the asshole." I said, laughing.

"Here, let me help you with that." Shane quickly took off her vest and draped it over my shoulders. "Now no one can tell you've got a massive beer stain on your shirt."

"Thank you, that's so sweet of you," I smiled up at her. She was taller than me by a few inches, and her eyes, which had seemed so dark before from across the room, were actually a hazel.

"It's my pleasure," she said quietly, eyes locked on mine.

I broke the silence, and the super awkward staring contest, by saying, "I really should be looking for my friends, they seem to have lost me."

Shane looked around the room, "What are their names, maybe I know them."

"Well there's Lacey and Danny," I replied, "Those are the girls I came with. And then Tyler drove us here."

"Oh I know Tyler," Shane said, "He lives in Eagle too."

"Yeah, right above my dorm, actually."

Shane narrowed her eyes and smiled, "Ah, so you're the girl who blares her girly music so loud that Tyler thinks his balls are gonna shrivel up and die?"  
I laughed, "He said that! That bastard. I'm gonna kill him."

Shane smiled, "He says that all he hears is Taylor Swift and Adele, you wouldn't believe how much he hates it."

"That little shit has always pretended to love my music," I cried, "What a liar!"

Shane smiled warmly and thrust her hands into her pockets, her shoulders lifting into an awkward shrug. She bit her lip and looked around the room.

"Do you maybe want to…" she trailed off, looked at me, looked away, looked back at me, "Do you maybe want to get out of here?"

I was surprised. Was she coming on to me? Wasn't that the line people always used in the movies when they wanted to take someone else home with them? Or maybe she meant that she needed to step outside for a bit. I shrugged and looked at the floor.

"I mean, it is pretty warm in here," I replied, "I could use a break. You smoke?" I asked.

"Yeah, yes I do."

"Well then let's go outside and find another spot to be anti-social in," I chuckled.

She smiled softly, her eyes reflecting disappointment. She had obviously read the situation differently than I did; I suspected she had wanted a bit more than to bum a cigarette off me.

We made our way through the hoard and out the front door. The desert night air felt good on my face after the stagnant and smoke-infused air that I had been breathing in for the past hour. There were a few people milling around in groups, smoking and chatting quietly with one another. We found another wall to lean on, this time next to each other instead of across from each other as strangers. I pulled out my pack of cigarettes and fumbled around for my lighter.

"Fuck, I forgot my lighter," I said.

"That's okay, I've got mine," she replied. She pulled out a red lighter and leaned toward me, lighting the cigarette that was in between my lips. The short burst of flame illuminated Shane's face for a few quick moments, and the orange glow spread over her skin, giving her face an attractive warmth. We were so close in that moment that I wanted to hold my breath and be as still as possible so I wouldn't disturb it.

I puffed on my cigarette as Shane lit one of her own. She looked good doing it, and I thought how silly that sounded. How could anyone look good while doing something so mundane as lighting a cigarette? But she did. She looked down and furrowed her brow, cupping one hand over the flame, cigarette held down only by her lips. She inhaled and blew out a cloud of smoke. I realized I was staring when she looked over at me, amused. I nervously looked away.

"So, what's your major?" I asked, posing the same question that everyone asked everyone in college.

"I'm a business major," she replied, "I have my cosmetology license and I want to open a hair salon. What about you?"

I breathed out a mouthful of smoke before replying, "English Lit with a creative writing minor."

She looked surprised.

"So you're smart?" she asked, mouth open in that half-smile thing that she seemed to do so well.

I laughed, "What does that mean?"

She chuckled, "Well you obviously write so you have to know grammar and shit. Fuck, I don't know." She laughed.

"There's this wonderful invention that we use in the writing world, it's called spell check," I said, laughing.

She bumped her arm into mine playfully, "You know what I mean! You have to be smart to be a good writer."

"And you have to have a lot of concentration to cut hair," I observed.

She looked over at me, a smile playing at her lips, "And steady hands," she said quietly, eyes fixed on mine.

My face grew red and I looked away.

"So are you off-campus then?" I asked, changing the subject quickly.

"Yeah I'm in a studio by the shopping center. On Baker."

"Oh, I've seen those!" I exclaimed, "They're nice."

She shrugged, "Yeah, it's small but its mine. I love having my own space."

"Sounds nice," I replied, "My roommate Bette is a lot sometimes and I wish I could get away."

Shane seemed intrigued. "What do you mean?"

"Well she's an art history major," I replied.

Shane automatically released a groan, "Oh man. Another one? You know, that's just another example of why people have this stereotype about us loving that modern art crap."

"Stereotype?" I repeated, "Against who?"

Shane looked at me, eyebrows raised and eyes laughing at me, "Against lesbians."

"Oh," I said so quietly I basically mouthed it. "I didn't know you knew Bette."

"Yeah, Bette and I know each other," Shane replied, eyeing the ground.

I was quiet; wanting to ask the question but not really sure if I wanted to know the answer. I opened my mouth and then closed it, and looked away. Shane looked over at me.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I'm sorry," I started, "But did you two…?"

She reached an arm up and scratched her head nervously, "Yeah we did, once."

"What happened?" I asked, and then added, "If you don't mind my asking."

She looked up at the sky and sighed. "We just didn't go together very well. We really liked hurting each other. And it was too much."

"Wow," I replied, "Bette never told me she had a relationship here."

Shane flipped her head toward me quickly, "We weren't in a relationship," she said firmly. Startled by her own abrasiveness, her face softened and she said more quietly, "I don't do relationships."

I nodded silently. It seemed about right to me. Shane had this whole defensive, guarded, mysterious and yet deeply attractive persona down. She'd been playing this game for a long time, I imagined.

I sensed the silence was starving our newly found friendship of life and I struggled for a change of conversation. I looked at her hair and the way it was styled. It was choppy and bold, a stylistic choice, no doubt.

"Do you cut your own hair?" I asked her.

"Yes I do," Shane replied, "I also cut hair for students to make extra cash."

"That's nice," I responded, "being able to do what you love for money."

"Yeah, it really is," she said. "I could cut your hair sometime, if you want," she looked over at me and winked, "No charge for new customers."

My first instinct was to say no thanks, but I surprised myself with actually thinking about her offer. "You know what," I began, "I'd actually really like that."

"Really?" she grinned.

"Yes, I would love for you to cut my hair." I said, feeling like I had just made a wild decision in trusting a stranger with my hair.

"Well that sounds great, when are you free?"

"Now." I said, laughing.

Shane laughed loudly with me, "Well then, now it is. My shears are at my place. I can take us there now."

I looked around for my friends, but still didn't see them. "Umm.." I started, pulling out my phone and sending a text to Lacey: _Met a friend, see you in the morning_ —"Yes, let's do that."

Shane smiled triumphantly. "Well alright then," she said.

I smiled back at her and wondered what the hell I just gotten myself into.


End file.
